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SCENE VIII.
BRUTUS, VALERIUS, PROCULUS.
PROCULUS.
At the door, a slave
Requests a secret audience of the consul.
BRUTUS.
At night! At this unseasonable hour!
PROCULUS.
Tidings, he says, of most important nature
He brings, a faithful witness of their truth.
BRUTUS.
On which perhaps the existence of the state
Depends; lead on! To hesitate a moment
Were to betray it.
[To Proculus.
Thou, my friend, to Titus!
Bid him, above each post, with vigilance
Guard the Quirinal gate. And may the world,
From the bright fame of his atchievements, own
The chosen race of Brutus is decreed
To subjugate th'aspiring necks of kings!
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